The Difference in Knowing and Feeling
by sabotouri
Summary: "I've been working for the last six years, I just need to hang out with someone that isn't Cobb."
1. Chapter 1

"Ariadne!"

Ariadne hadn't even made it to curbside when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she smiled at the sight of Arthur hurrying towards her, dragging his luggage cart behind him.

"Hi," he grinned. "I, uh… I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said, leaning in to hug him impulsively. After a minute, they parted and just stared at each other.

"Where will you go?" he asked, crossing his arms. She shrugged, hailing a taxi. "Back to Paris?"

"Probably," she replied, thanking the driver as he threw her bags in the trunk. "I might stay here for a few days, though. I've never been before and I've always wanted to see the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. What about you? Will you go home?"

"Ma'am, are you ready?" the driver interrupted, tapping the hood. Ariadne signaled one minute to him and then turned back to Arthur.

"Arthur?"

"Can I come with you?" he asked smoothly, no hint of worry that she would say no in his voice. He smiled a tiny smile as her eyebrows narrowed and her mouth thinned. "I've been working for the last six years, I just need to hang out with someone that isn't Cobb."

"Yeah, of course," she responded, surprised.

Ariadne and Arthur climbed into the cab as the driver rearranged their luggage in the trunk to fit. "Where to?" he asked, once he was in.

"The Westin Bonaventura," Arthur replied quickly before Ariadne could answer. The driver nodded.

"And you, ma'am?"

"Uh, the Westin too, I guess."

Pulling away from the airport, Ariadne found herself staring out the window, drawing lines in the sky with her fingers. She was equal parts curious as to why Arthur had come with her and emotionally and mentally exhausted from their plane ride.

Arthur checked his phone, knowing there'd be no messages, and cast a sideways glance at his friend.

"Friend," he thought, mentally sighing. "Is she really?"

Arriving at the Westin Bonaventura, Arthur allowed himself the tiniest pleasure with Ariadne's gasp.

"This is where we're staying?" she asked, her eyes huge. Arthur nodded, paying the cabbie and following the bellhop in.

"Are you coming?" he called back, not waiting for her reply before sidling up to the front desk. "Hi, I have a reservation for six nights. Last name is Pressman, first name Arthur."

Ariadne had caught up to Arthur and come to stand next to him. She felt her ears redden when he told the concierge his last name. How silly that such a little piece of information affected her so much.

"And you, miss? Are you staying with Mr. Pressman?"

"No!" they both replied quickly, laughing awkwardly.

"No, I'll need my own room, six nights also. Ariadne Graham."

A bit of paperwork later, Ariadne, Arthur, the bellhop and their luggage squeezed into an elevator and headed towards their rooms.

"Pressman?" she asked, spooked by the sound of her own voice. Arthur shook his head.

"An alias," he said, his voice low. The bell dinged and they followed the bellhop to Arthur's room. "Thank you, we'll take it from here. No, I'll take her bags," he said, tipping the bellhop and holding the door open with his foot for Ariadne.

The pair hauled their luggage into the room, where Ariadne sat down heavily on the bed, sinking into the plush white comforter as Arthur untied his tie (she couldn't help but smirk a little as he hung it on a hanger) and rolled up his sleeves. He took a seat across from Ariadne and crossed his legs.

"King," he said, after a long minute. She must have looked surprised because he laughed. "My last name is King."

"Is Arthur your real first name?" she asked, turning onto her belly and propping her head up. He nodded.

"Arthur Fredrick, after my father. What about you?"

"Mika is my middle name, for my grandmother. Ariadne was Dionysus' wife and my parents have this thing for Antiquity sculpture and Greek mythology," she shrugged.

"It's beautiful, he said. "Your grandmother's name too."

"She died when I was two," Ariadne said, picking at her sleeve.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, smiling small. "I know what that's like, losing your family."

"Are your parents gone?" she asked, realizing too late that she was getting very personal. She was relieved when he shook his head no.

"No, but we're estranged. I haven't seen them in ten years."

"Why not?"

"When I left for college, they were already disappointed in my career path because it deviated from their plan. My sister, Chelsea, started college the year before I had and had done exactly what they wanted for her. The further she continued down their path, the more it took me out of the picture completely. The Christmas before I graduated, I didn't get an invitation to come home and after that, I stopped trying."

"I'm so sorry," Ariadne said, sighing. "What did you major in? Surely fact checking for dream scraping wasn't in the curriculum."

"Accounting. After I graduated, I began working for an auditing firm called Kaufman, Pressman and Shale."

"Ah, so that's where Mr. Pressman comes from, I take it?"

"Yeah, my boss and truly good man. I spent five years traveling around the world until Cobb found me auditing a restaurant chain in Topeka. He sat down at my table, told me my own life's story and then gave me a name on a piece of paper and twenty four hours to find out everything I could about him," Arthur said. He had kicked his shoes off while he was talking and was working on unbuttoning his vest. "Are you hungry?"

"No," she answered quickly, hoping she didn't sound too eager. She found him fascinating and was almost desperate to glean enough information to form a personal connection.

"Okay. The man he had me research, the things I found out about him? They made me sick. When Cobb came back the next day, I gave him everything I knew and told him I wasn't interested."

"Who was the man?"

"It was Eames. Cobb told me I didn't have a choice in the matter and that fulfilling his test had as well as signed a contract. Knowing what I knew at that point, I was a liability if I wasn't on his team. The next week, we flew to Monaco for our first job. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled when we walked into the casino and right up to Eames."

"What was so bad about him?" Ariadne asked, knowing she was starting to push her luck. Arthur shook his head and pushed his fingers to his temples.

"I didn't understand it at the time, but I thought he had ruined someone's life, a woman he knew named Gabrielle. It turned out that it was a job hazard Cobb hadn't informed me of, that it was part of Eames' gift. He is a forger, one of the best out there. He can do documents, money, Passports and, as you know, people. He got that gift from Gabrielle."

"How?"

"You're very inquisitive. Has anybody ever told you that?" He was smiling but Ariadne could sense he was uncomfortable. She started to apologize when he continued. "Gabrielle was Eames' best friend, his lover we all thought, but no one knows for sure. They worked as a pair and one day, they went under together and she never came back."

"She's dead?" Ariadne gasped, a lump forming in her throat. "Like Mal?"

"No," Arthur replied, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "She's a vegetable. She lives hooked up to machines in Bali because she stayed in Eames' mind too long. They couldn't separate their dreams from reality anymore and, in the end, their subconsciouses melded. He uses her as a gambit now, the same way that Cobb uses Mr. Charles. She was in my dream, the blonde woman we saw crossing the lobby."

Ariadne rolled over onto her back and shut her eyes, trying her hardest to process all of the information she was getting. Opening them again, she focused on Arthur, who was now upside down in her vision. She smiled.

"How old are you, Arthur? 25?" She blushed when he laughed, afraid she had aged him.

"That's flattering. Actually, I'm 29."

"Oh. Well, you look good."

"Thanks, you too," he replied, reaching for the room service menu. He realized that was a weird return, considering he had no reason to compliment her. "Uh, you know, for 25."

Ariadne's mouth dropped open. "What? I'm 22!" she screeched, chucking a pillow at him. He dodged playfully. "Hey, wait a second. You knew that! You had to have, you know everything about everyone!"

"Maybe," he sing-songed, ducking as she threw another pillow him. "Careful, you might break something." He was ill prepared for her next move, as she dove off the bed, knocking him to the ground. She straddled him and began to pummel him with a pillow.

Laughing, Arthur covered his head and groped for a pillow, eventually finding it leaning against the wall. He began to fight back, much more gently than she was, at least at first. After a minute, he wrapped his arms around her waist, stood up and threw her on the bed. He was sure their neighbors would call the front desk, considering that they were currently making an ungodly amount of noise.

The moment he stopped to ponder was all it took for her blindside him. The pillow collided with his face and, out of surprise, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the bed, his knees on either side of her. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her hair crazy. He leaned down, their chests both heaving, and just as he was about to kiss her, she turned her head and grabbed the menu from the bedside table.

"So, how about dinner?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So, I packed up everything, bought a ticket to Paris and I've been there ever since. Can you pass the ketchup?"

Sitting on the floor in between the desk and the bed, Ariadne and Arthur were eating and passing back and forth little vignettes about their life. Ariadne was intrigued to find that most of Arthur's stories came from the time _before_ he met Cobb, not after. He had told her of traveling the world with his father, a pilot for a major airline, and how his sisters, Chelsea and Jenna, were his best, and only, friends.

"Chels lives in Sacramento, with her husband and my nephews. Jenna lives in Pittsburgh with her cats," he laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a move that surprised Ariadne. "She has four, I think, and that's probably all she'll ever have. She's not really the marrying type."

"How did we go from talking about how I got to Paris to your sister's feline addiction?" Ariadne questioned, stabbing a carrot with her fork. Arthur shrugged.

"I figured it was better to just keep talking instead of excusing myself to go vomit. I can't believe you put ketchup on your carrots."

"I choose to believe that all fruits and vegetables are friendly, so really, tomatoes on carrots isn't that farfetched," she mused, popping the carrot in her mouth with an exaggerated sigh. "Do you see them a lot? Your sisters, I mean."

"No. I haven't seen Chelsea since Nathan was born in 2005 and I haven't seen Jenna in almost ten years. I am just very adept at finding information." He paused and took a deep sip from his red wine. "They think I'm dead."

Ariadne choked on her food and began to cough. Arthur thumped her on the back once and she was able to breathe again. "They think you're dead?" she squeaked.

"It's easier that way. Neater," he allowed. He hadn't removed his hand from her back, ready to thwomp her again should the need arise. She was breathing normally, but the split second robbed of air had shaken her. "Are you okay?"

"Do you have to do that?" she asked, her voice lighter than before. He cocked his head questioningly and folded his hands behind his neck. "I mean, will I have to convince my parents that they're better off thinking I'm dead?"

"Not everyone goes that route. Your situation is unique because you're so young. Most of us, and there are a lot like us, have no family and no friends, either by choice or by age. Cobb has his kids and Miles, but no friends. I guess you could call he and I friends, but that's necessitated by work. Eames has no one, that's why he has so many women. I have the memories of my sisters and the bitterness I feel towards my parents, but no friends." Arthur looked out the window, his eyes glazing the tiniest bit and suddenly Ariadne was scared he might cry. She should have known better though, for a second later he turned back to her and smiled.

"In this business," he said, arching his back, "it's easier to stay uninvolved. No family, no relationships, no lovers." Ariadne raised on eyebrow.

"So why are you here, Arthur? You're either here as a friend or something else and since you tried to kiss me earlier, I'm guessing that, at the very least, that wily subconscious of yours wants something else."

Arthur picked up his plate and placed it on the room service cart before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door. Ariadne stared at the closed door and allowed her head to fall back, thumping against the wall.

"You're an idiot," she grumped to herself, cleaning her dinner mess up. "I mean, seriously, you're a total idiot." Ariadne placed her silver and china on the room service tray and began to look for her shoes. Through the door, she heard running water and the rhythmic swishing of water.

"Of course he brushes his teeth after he eats," she thought. Finding her boots, she padded back to the bed and sat to put them on. She was involved in relacing the top eyelets and didn't hear Arthur come back out, nor did she notice him until he was sitting next to her. "Jesus Christ, Arthur," she gasped as he placed his hand on her knee.

"Ariadne, I like you. I think you're smart and outrageously talented and I believe you saved my friend's life earlier today. You deserve to be able to dream without worrying you won't wake up and I know you think that there's nothing to it, but from now on, you will always doubt yourself."

"Arthur…"

"Just let me finish," he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared her directly in the eye. "I have been doing this for six years. I need to tell you something and I need you to just listen, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, worried what she was about to hear would undo everything they had just done. He sighed and leaned back against the headboard.

"I have seen some of the most elaborate, twisted dreamscapes imaginable. I have run for my life, been shot, stabbed, beaten and crushed more times than I can count. It's been my job for six years to take care of Cobb, whether he wants to admit it or not. The last twenty-three months, I've been dealing with Mal and what she does to him. Do you see where I'm going with this?" he asked, taking her hand. Ariadne shook her head no, her eyes apologetic.

"I don't know who I am, Ariadne. I don't know what I want once I'm back in reality. I know that, more than anything, I need to reassess, to step back and decide if I really want to continue working in extraction. The only friendships I've had in the last six years have been in my mind, projections of a reality I have forgotten. I know nothing about creating in real life. I don't know how to love, I don't even remember what it feels like. I've spent the last six years living in complete darkness."

"You think you can't love me?" she asked, hoping he hadn't heard the tears in her voice. He shook his head no and crossed his fingers into hers.

"I think you don't know me. The feelings you're feeling right now is your mind processing the onslaught of emotions and physical and mental turmoil we just experienced. You have nothing to form an opinion on, except what you know from work. Two weeks, Ariadne. Two weeks ago, you were working on homework, blissfully oblivious. Just think about it."

"You're wrong," she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she looked back up, the pain in his eyes saddened her. She knew what he was trying to do, to force her back to her real life, her old life. "You think I don't know you, but I do."

"Ariadne…"

"You're left handed, but you hold your fork with your right hand because you write and eat at the same time. You wear contacts with the same prescription as Eames, because you shared glasses once and made a comment about how clear your vision was. You put your coat on funny and I think you must have hurt your shoulder bad sometime, because you do the same little spin thing that Martin Sheen does with his coat. You have a scar on your right forearm in a perfect straight line from the wire. Arthur, I know who you are. I know your little idiosyncrasies and if you truly believe that you are the job, then what I have observed _is_ who you are, because I have only known you as the job." She had moved closer to him while she talking and now was practically sitting in his lap.

"I didn't save Cobb's life today," she choked, her voice heavy. "He started mine. I have never seen the world with open eyes like I do now and I know you might think I'm ignorant to the dangers of dreaming while you're awake, but I'm not. I don't expect you to know how to love, Arthur. I don't expect us to fall into each other like two halves of a whole. I don't think you'll follow me to Paris or I'll follow you to wherever our next job is. I know you don't think those things will happen. But I do expect you to kiss me goodnight, because that is the gentlemanly thing to do and if you are nothing else, you are a gentleman."

She had barely gotten the last word out when he pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. He laced his fingers through her hair and placed his free hand on her face, stroking her cheek. For what seemed like an eternity they stayed, joined in a chaste kiss that ended with an awkward laugh and a deep exhale.

"Goodnight, Arthur," Ariadne sighed, allowing herself one more short kiss before climbing off the bed and leaving without another word. Arthur watched her go and when the door shut with a click, he flopped over on the bed and fell asleep with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Mom," Ariadne said, wincing as her mother began to shriek immediately.

"Two weeks! TWO WEEKS, ARIADNE! No one has seen or heard from you in two weeks! I have Interpol looking for you, goddammit! Where the hell were you?" Cheryl screamed. "Your RA called, told us you never came home and that your roommates were worried. Where the fuck have you been?"

"Mom, stop swearing, jeez," Ariadne sighed, crossing her legs on the bed. "I was…" she hesitated. She couldn't tell her mom the truth, not that she'd ever believe it anyway. "I met a guy. His name is Arthur and he is… he's great. I guess I just lost track of time, that's all."

"A boy? You had me worried over a boy? Good God, Ariadne, I thought you were better than that!" Cheryl said, her voice considerably calmer, though she was still yelling. "You can't disappear, sweetheart." There was silence for a long minute before Cheryl took a deep breath. "So, tell me about him. What does he do?"

"He's an accountant," Ariadne said, ignoring the nagging she got when had to lie to her parents. "He's 29 and I know you're going to say that's too old but it's really not a big deal. He is kind and very, very chivalrous."

"Does he have a good head on his shoulders?"

"He's kind of a dreamer," Ariadne said, smiling to herself.

"Just like your father."

"How is Dad?" she asked, laying back on her bed and understanding why they called it the Heavenly Bed.

"He's good. He's probably somewhere in Paris, clomping around with his GPS, looking for you," Cheryl said with a laugh. Ariadne sat bolt upright.

"Dad's in Paris?" she gasped, her hand flying to her forehead. "Oh shit."

"No, no. I was just kidding. He's asleep."

"Most people are at midnight. Why are you up anyway?"

"I was waiting for you to call, baby." Ariadne swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt guilty, completely horrible. Not only had she lied to her mother about Arthur and the true nature of their relationship, whatever that was, she had led her parents to believe she was in danger. "Ari?"

"I love you, Mama. I have to go. I will talk to you later."

"Okay, bye. Love you too," Cheryl said. Ariadne listened for the disconnect before chucking her phone across the room and dissolving into tears.

Her sobs came fresh and raw, consuming her entire body. She drew her knees up to her chin and pressed her head to her knees, tears rolling down her bare legs and dotting the comforter.

It was too much. She realized now how close she'd come to losing everything, her life, her mind, all of it. She'd blindly followed Cobb into his dream, allowed herself to almost fall prey to a lifetime in limbo, all for a nearly complete stranger. Her despair was coming from a visceral level, roaring out unstoppably.

She knew it now, that real life would never be good enough, that her parents would spend the rest of their lives looking for someone that couldn't be found. She felt like the man that can't be moved, stuck in her own subconscious and it occurred to her that this was exactly what Arthur had been talking about.

Ariadne was overcome with nausea. She hurried to the bathroom and began to heave, deep and guttural, and wasn't surprised when she felt strong hands on her shoulders.

"Shh, it's okay," Arthur said, pulling her hair back out of her face. He rubbed her back and reached for a rag. "Okay, come here."

Arthur picked Ariadne up off the floor and kicked the lid to toilet shut, making a mental note to clean up later. Ariadne dissolved into tears again, turning her head to Arthur's shoulder and sobbing quietly as he laid her down and began to gently wipe her face down.

"Shh," he hushed again, running the cloth over her swollen eyes. "It's okay, I know, it's okay."

"A-a-a-rthur, how did you g-g-get in?" she hiccupped, trying to focus on him. He smiled and rubbed his thumb over her reddened cheek.

"I have your other key. I knew before we even left the airport that this was coming. It happened after my first extraction," he said, his voice low and gentle. He kicked off his shoes and laid down next to her. She realized for the first time that he must have come up after already falling asleep. His hair was out of place, he was wearing cotton pajama bottoms and a white shirt and he had levidity lines across his face, probably from the pillow. "I cried for almost ten hours once I got home."

Ariadne allowed him to pull her close and settled her head into the crook of his arm. "Arthur, are you taking care of me b-b-because you want to or because you have to?"

"I remember, Ariadne. I remember feeling like I was the only person in the world who understood this loneliness. I remember being alone in my apartment, sitting on the floor of my room, taking stock of everything I thought I had and realizing I had nothing. I took a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to get back to that place. I woke up two days later, still in the same clothes, still in the same spot. I felt betrayed by Cobb, by Eames. No one warned me, no one told me that every day after that would be spent waking up alone. No one told me that I would spend every cent of money I had trying to recreate that feeling. I started buying nice things, expensive clothes and I created a new person for myself. I became the man you know."

Ariadne's breathing had steadied and her tears had stilled. She was watching him intently, listening to his every word. He smelled amazing, she noted, like sandalwood and clean, like he had just showered.

"You didn't answer my question, though. Are you doing this because you want to or need to?"

"I want you to be happy and healthy and I need you to understand that you're not alone, even if you feel like it. Look, I don't know what this is. I don't know where it's going or if it's even a good idea, but I know that I am drawn to you. I knew you were in trouble because you were in my dream, my real dream, and that never happens. I'm always alone in my real dreams."

He was leaning over her and brought his forehead down to rest on hers. "I'm not expecting anything, Ariadne. I can stay here or I can go back to my room, it makes no difference to me."

"Arthur, can I ask you something kind of personal?" she asked, turning onto her side, so that she was face to face with him. He nodded and she took a deep breath. "When was the last time you were with a woman?"

His ears reddened and he broke her gaze, taking to staring at the wall above her head. "Uh… a long time ago."

"How long?" she asked, feeling a bit emboldened; for what reason, she didn't know.

He chewed his lip and sighed. "Never." Ariadne's mouth dropped slightly. "I… I was a late bloomer and Cobb swooped me up before I had the chance to… you know. Once I got involved with extraction, I forgot all about it. This is mortifying."

"No, no it's not," Ariadne said quickly, feeling like a jerk. "I've only done it once and it was a terrible experience."

"How old were you?" he asked, the color returning to his face.

"19. It was my freshman year of college and it was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Why did you ask me that?" he asked, his brow creasing. "Why does it matter?"

"Because you're not like other guys, Arthur. This isn't normal behavior for friends, at least no friends that I know. My brother certainly doesn't hold his wife's hair back while she pukes. Your sensitivity is off the charts and you don't make a misstep and I need to know if I'm reading it the wrong way, 'cause I think I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Any girl is going to interpret this as romantic, Arthur. Look at us. We're in bed together, practically naked and… oh my God, I don't have pants on!"

Arthur laughed as Ariadne dove out of bed and threw her jeans back on. She hopped across the room, buttoning the jeans, before plopping back down on the bed and covering her head with the pillow, mumbling something about being completely unaware.

"It's okay, really," he said, resting his hand on the small of her back. "I hadn't even noticed."

"That's what I mean!" she said, sitting up quickly. "Any other guy would have totally overlooked the fact that I was upset or would have used it to manipulate sex. It's a hurt-comfort thing that twenty something's are really fond of and it works, especially when the girl is vulnerable."

"To be perfectly honest, you smell too bad to be attracted to right now. I mean, maybe if you hadn't mixed your carrots with ketchup, it wouldn't reek so bad coming back up. Ow!" he said, as she placed a well-aimed punch to his shoulder.

"I'm being serious, Arthur!"

"I am too!" he replied, throwing his hands up. "Ari, I like you! I am physically attracted to you, is that what you want to hear? I don't know what I'm doing right now, really. I have many gifts, but feeling my way around this type of situation isn't one of them, no pun intended. Where are you going?"

"To brush my teeth!" she called from the bathroom. Arthur shrugged and lay back against the headboard. He closed his eyes and concentrated on stilling the stirring in his stomach. A few minutes later, he heard Ariadne clear her throat. He opened his eyes and his mouth dropped.

She was sitting on the end of the bed, her legs folded neatly beneath her, wearing only her bra and underwear. He crossed his hands over his lap not so subtly and stammered out a question.

"Um… what happened to your clothes?"

"You told Eames that you appreciated specificity. Well, let me put it as simply and specifically as possible. I want you to take your clothes off and turn the bedside lamp off."

"I can handle that."


	4. Chapter 4

"I , uh… all my clothes?" Arthur asked, his fingers gripping the hem of his shirt. Ariadne shook her head.

"Just your shirt and your pants. You can leave your boxers on. We're not having sex tonight, Arthur," she smiled, placing her hand on his knee.

"Thank God," he exhaled. "I was freaking out. I mean, I still am, but I feel less sick to my stomach." Ariadne looked at him, confused.

"You don't want to sleep with me?"

"No!" he said quickly. "No, it's just… I don't know what to do and we don't have any protection and a million thoughts went through my mind, all of which ended with you disappointed and me filled with regret and I don't want that."

Ariadne slipped under the cover next to him, clutching the blanket under her arms. "First of all, the word 'protection' when referring to sex gives me the heebie jeebies. It sounds so impersonal, not that any of the other names sound any better. Secondly, I just want us to be comfortable with each other. I was disarmed enough to see you in something other than wingtips. Besides, being a virgin doesn't make you an idiot. I think sex is one of those things that you can learn a lot about just thinking about it."

Ariadne leaned over and gently tugged his shirt from his hand and slid it off over his head. The moonlight filtering through window cast shadows over her fingers as they traced cords of muscle and soft, smooth skin, coming to rest on a thick scar just beneath his left collarbone.

"About two weeks after the first extraction, we got caught in a shake up. I took a bullet to the shoulder and Cobb took one to the foot. Um, what are you doing?"

"Taking your pants off since you apparently forgot," she said, tugging the waistband to his pajamas down. He grabbed her hand and shook his head.

"Please don't. It's already almost more than I can handle and the last thing I need is to come out of this looking like a thirteen year old with his dad's Penthouse," Arthur said, entwining their fingers. She moved to straddled him, but he stopped her, instead turning on his side to face her. "Ariadne, please, I'm already embarrassed."

It took her a second to realize what he was talking about, before beginning to giggle. Her giggle turned into a laugh and before she knew it, she was shaking with laughter, tugging the blanket up over her head.

"Stop it," he said, thankful she couldn't see how hard he was blushing. He crossed his legs under the sheets and willed his brain for, for one second, to stop being male. "You're half naked and you're touching me, this isn't a unique reaction!"

"I know, it's just… you're so buttoned up," she snorted. "I never stopped to think for one second that you might be unable to control something. I'm sorry, here," she said, kissing him like it was the most normal thing ever.

"Ariadne, what are we doing right now?" he asked, taking her face in his hands. She smiled.

"We're exploring the difference in knowing and feeling."

* * *

The sun woke Arthur up not long after his mind allowed to fall asleep. Ariadne hadn't lasted long once they'd snuggled up, maybe fifteen minutes and now she slept soundly next to him, her chest rising and falling in short, rhythmic tugs. He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb her and padded into the bathroom where he stripped of his pants and climbed in the shower.

He turned the water on as hot as it could go and stood under the pounding rush until it ran in rivulets down his body. He was thinking, caught halfway between reverie and stupor when he heard her voice.

"Good morning," she yawned, hopping up on the sink counter and crossing her legs. Arthur stopped breathing for a minute before he realized that she wasn't coming in with him.

"Ariadne, I'm naked right now."

"Thank God," she said, taking a bite of an apple she'd brought in from the fruit basket in the living room, "'cause I worried for a minute that you showered in a three piece."

Arthur smiled to himself, dumping shampoo in his hand and working it through it his hair. "So what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know, I was thinking that we could go sight seeing. It might not interest you, but like I said yesterday, I've never been here. Towel?" she asked as Arthur stuck his hand out from behind the curtain. He responded yes, taking the fluffy cotton towel from her and emerging from the shower with it wrapped around his waist. "Uh…"

"What?" he asked, a tiny smirk on his face. He grabbed his toothbrush and popped it in his mouth, keeping his eyes on her.

"Nothing, just, you know, I'm thinking about contrast."

"What do you mean?" he garbled, spitting foam into the sink and swishing some water around. Ariadne shrugged.

"Well, this is quite the departure from your standard uniform."

Arthur smiled. "Like you said, it would worry you if I showered in a three piece." He walked out into the room and shuffled through his suitcase for a pair of jeans, brown t-shirt and socks. He dropped trou without thinking and began to dress, oblivious to Ariadne's presence until she cleared her throat. He stopped buttoning his jeans and turned to face her, blushing.

"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his hands to the side. "That was inconsiderate of me."

"No, how much you paid for those jeans is inconsiderate. Getting naked in front of me is what I was talking about last night," she said, sitting down in the armchair and swinging her legs over the edge.

"Explain," he implored, searching for an undershirt.

"You weren't uncomfortable changing in front of me because there was no connotation behind it, we're just getting ready to leave. You need clothes, so you got them. But last night, being naked together had a completely different meaning." She stopped and thought for a minute. "How did your suitcase get up here anyway?"

"I went and got it last night after you fell asleep, both of them, and checked out of my room. Now that we've crossed that bridge, I can't go back to sleeping alone," he offered simply. He turned to her and shrugged. "I'd forgotten how good it felt to be noticed. Are you going to take a shower?"

Ariadne shook her head no and hopped up to dig through her suitcase for an outfit, pulling out a white and blue eyelet dress. She stripped unashamedly and, despite their talk not two minutes ago, Arthur averted his eyes until she was dressed. When he looked back up, she was twisting her hair up into a loose bun and pulling her brown boots on.

"Okay, let's go," she said as she jumped around, working her arms back and forth. "Wait, my purse. Okay, now. Let's go!"

Arthur laughed and followed her out of the room, hitting the lights as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

"Man, I wish I had thought to bring a camera with me," Ariadne sighed as they made their way through Echo Park. Arthur turned to her with his eyebrows raised. "What?"

"A check for seven million dollars was deposited in your bank account this morning, I'm pretty sure you can afford a new camera if you want." Arthur took a few more steps before realizing she had stopped. He turned back and had to laugh at the look on her face. "Ariadne?"

"SEVEN MILLION DOLLARS?" she screamed, her hands flying up. Arthur shushed her, clamping his hand over her mouth and wrapping his other arm around her, trying to stop her from jumping. "I'm sorry, seven million dollars?" she whispered, as if everyone in the park wasn't staring at her. "Hold on."

Digging into her pocket, Ariadne sat down on the sidewalk and tipped her bishop four or five times before Arthur dragged her to her feet and made her start walking.

"How do you know that, Arthur? Cobb never mentioned anything to me about being paid, how do you know?"

"Because it was half of my share," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Cobb gave all of his to Yusuf, Eames kept his, of course, and I split mine with you. Oh, good Lord," he grunted as she flung herself on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and pelting him with kisses. "Seriously, stop, we're attracting attention."

The walked in silence for half an hour, but he knew she would bring it back up. As the sun rose to its high point in the sky, they took refuge under a tree and sat, knees touching, until she said something.

"I can pay off all of my debt," she said simply, looking at him through squinted eyes. He nodded. "I can buy a house and finish college and live comfortably. You didn't have to do that, Arthur."

"Yes, I did. You deserved it. Besides, after a couple years of this job, seven million dollars won't seem like much to you. The people who hire us are billionaires."

"How much are you worth, Arthur?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"A lot," he replied and the tone in his voice told her not to go further. "But you shouldn't do this job for the money, Ariadne, so don't let it become your motivating factor." He took a breath to continue when the shrill ring of his phone stopped him. "That'll be Cobb," he said.

"How do you know?"

"He's the only one that has this number. "Dom," Arthur answered, holding the phone up to his ear. He listened for a minute and smiled. "Okay. We're both here," he said, holding the phone out.

"I just wanted to thank you both again," Cobb said. Ariadne smiled, invigorated by the happiness in his voice. "Arthur, there's a call coming in for you in about two hours patched in from Saito's private jet. Answer it, okay? Ariadne, take care of yourself. Bye."

"Do you think Saito is going to offer you another job?" Ariadne asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Unlikely. After a job like the one we just pulled, everyone is going to have to keep a low profile for a while. "

"Will you take another job if it comes your way?" she asked. Arthur nodded.

"This is my life's profession. I have to take what I can get because if I get out of the game, I'll become irrelevant. Like I said, it isn't about the money. It's about keeping something constant in your life when everything else around it insane."

"There," she said, grabbing his hand. "That's what I've been trying to get at this whole time, Arthur! I don't need you to be my boyfriend or my best friend or whatever, I just need a constant."

Arthur thought for a long moment before kissing her lightly. He pulled her tight under his arm and they sat, watching people, until the sun went down on Los Angeles.


	5. Chapter 5

After a simple dinner, Ariadne and Arthur had returned to their hotel with the biggest bag of M & M's they could find and were currently splayed on out the bed, devouring the candy. Ariadne laughed out loud at the sight of Arthur separating the colors into neat piles.

"They all taste the same," she grinned, shoving a handful in her mouth for proof. Arthur shook his head.

"No, they don't. It's subtle, but there's a difference. Besides, they're more aesthetically pleasing this way.

"You're serious right now, aren't you?"

"Completely," he said, popping the reds into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Actually, I've done this since I was a kid. It used to drive my dad crazy. Nearly everything I did drove him crazy."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne asked, stretching her arms above her head. Arthur sighed, his face darkening.

"I wasn't what he had envisioned exactly for a son. I was smart, smarter than him and he couldn't interact with me. This may come as a surprise to you, but I wasn't very macho in grade school," he smirked, starting on his blue M & M's. Ariadne laughed.

"I finally found my niche in high school, though," he continued.

"Chess club?" she teased, throwing the empty bag in the trash. Arthur smiled.

"No, drama club. Of course, that only hurt things with my dad more. He thought I was gay."

"I never would have pegged you for drama. You're so… stoic," Ariadne said, wondering if that was really what she was trying to say.

"Well, it helped. So much of this job is acting. Training your mind to adapt to other situations is key."

"I'm sorry," Ariadne interrupted. Arthur looked at her, puzzled. "I'm sorry your relationship with your dad was bad."

"Oh," he said simply, shrugging. "It's fine. I've come to terms with it over the years and now that they think I'm dead, there's really nothing to worry about."

"Why did you have yourself declared dead? I mean, was that… was that really necessary?"

"It allowed them to stop worrying about me. The grief they felt accepting the finality of my death is nothing compared to the constant state of agony my mother went through not knowing where I was."

"I know what you mean, "Ariadne sighed. "My mom thought I'd been kidnapped. She had Interpol looking for me."

Arthur's head snapped around so fast, it startled her. "What?" he said, his eyes wide.

"My mom has…"

"Goddammit!" he growled, flying off the bed and digging through his briefcase.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Your passport would have been flagged at security and you didn't have a fake. If they can find you, they can find me. Eames," Arthur said into the phone. "It's time to roll. We have a situation. Meet me at LAX in twenty and call Peter on the way, we need the next private flight out of here."

"What's going on?" Ariadne asked, her voice panicked. Arthur grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

"You have compromised all of our safety," he said, he eyes full of anger. "Did no one brief you on keeping a low profile before you left?"

"No, no one told me anything!"

"We have to go, now," he said, pushing her towards the door. "No, leave your stuff, we'll buy new clothes when we get there."

"Where are we going?" Ariadne asked, tears in her voice.

"We're disappearing."

* * *

It was nearly three hours before Ariadne said anything again. Seated on a private jet across from Arthur and next to Eames, she felt worse than she ever had.

"Eames," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded without taking his eyes off the window. "I'm so sorry."

"Darling, it's not your fault," he sighed, turning to look at her. "Cobb should have told you and Arthur there should have made sure Cobb told you. So really, it's Arthur's fault."

"Lay off, Eames," Arthur snipped, crossing his arms. "Isn't it your job to make sure we have the proper documentation?"

"I only do what I'm told, no more and no less. No one told me she needed one, so she didn't have one."

Arthur shoved out of his chair and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Why are you so hard on him?" Ariadne asked. Eames chuckled.

"Easy mark," he replied, patting her knee. "Arthur and I have been in some terrible situations together. He's saved my life many times and I am eternally grateful, but you have to have a little fun every now and then. I'm just not sure he remembers how."

"We had a good time in Los Angeles," Ariadne offered, taken aback when Eames' face soured. "What?"

"You must be careful, Ariadne. An emotional attachment is a death sentence in this job. You know what it did to Cobb and Arthur… Arthur has been without his family for five years now. He will leap at the chance to form a bond with somebody, even if his actions say otherwise. By the time you realized that he felt for you, his job would be nearly impossible for him to do well."

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I know you feel for him," Eames said, squeezing her hand. "And I fear he feels for you too."

Ariadne started to speak when Arthur sat back down.

"You two should get some sleep. We have a long flight," Arthur said, his voice irritated.

"Where are we going?" Ariadne asked, frustrated that he refused to make eye contact with her.

"Sri Lanka. I know someone who can help us."

"Boda?" Eames asked, leaning his seat back. Arthur nodded. "Lovely. Good night then."

It didn't take long until Eames was snoring, his head lolled to the side. Ariadne turned his overhead light off and draped a blanket over his lap. She crossed the aisle and sat down next to Arthur, next to the window, forcing him to look at her unless he wanted to stare straight ahead.

"Does he still dream?" she asked, nodding towards Eames. Arthur shook his head no.

"I can't say for sure, but more than likely not. I don't dream in detail anymore. I'm always alone and in a lonely place."

"You said I was in your dream the other night?"

"You were," he said, finally looking at her. His eyes were tired and worried. "I knew you were in trouble because of it. There's no science or magic behind it, Ariadne. Your mind is more powerful than you give it credit for."

"When we land in Sri Lanka, will I ever come home again?" she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. Arthur looked away again and took her hand in his. "I won't, will I? Arthur, who are we running from?"

"Cobol Engineering. Saito squared Cobb away when we returned and I stupidly assumed that meant we were scot-free. Cobb will be impossible to find now. He and the kids will go into the hiding and live their lives. The price on his head, however, will transfer to me."

"What?" Ariadne choked, her mouth open. "How much?"

"One hundred million dollars," he said, "dead."

"How much alive?"

"Not an option. They don't care to find me, they just want me out of the picture. I know too much, or at least they think I do. Cobb is the only one that knows where the information is stored."

"Wait, this is all too much to process, I don't understand."

"We did a job for Cobol, an extraction and it failed. They wanted Saito's plans for expansion, which I think were just ruse to get us to him in the first place, and when we didn't deliver, they wanted us back in their possession. Instead, we just disappeared."

"Why?"

"Because we'd be dead right now if we hadn't. We betrayed them and they know it. It will take a few months, but they will figure it out, that Saito's expansion plans were really just a way for him to get to Fischer. Now that Fischer/Morrow is dissolved, that makes Saito an asset again and enforces the existing deal he had with Cobol, which they thought they'd get out of when Maurice Fischer died. They are going to lose a lot of money."

"Why not kill Saito?"

"Because that won't do anything. He is a figurehead for his company but the ownership is distributed greatly. If they want anyone, they want Kaneda, Saito's chief engineer. But they don't, they want us."

"Us? I…"

"Am a liability now," Arthur finished. "If they have an extractor looking for me, you're in trouble too. Not because you're with me, but because they can use you to get to me."

"What do you mean?"

"They'll torture you until I give up the goose and it wouldn't take long, because if they lay a finger on you, I'll kill everyone in the room."

"That's flattering, Arthur, but somehow I don't think that's the way to make friends," Ariadne said, hoping her nervousness didn't sound in her voice. "Does it ever bother you? The killing?"

Arthur nodded. "I used to pray and beg for forgiveness every night, until my throat was raw. Now, I figure I've done so much that it's the least of my concerns. You do what you have to do to save your life."

"I won't kill anybody," Ariadne said, her body stiffening. "I mean, I shot Mal to save Cobb, but that wasn't real."

"Yes it was," Arthur said, quickly. "It might have been a dream, but the reaction was real. You think you won't kill anyone but don't close off to it because your hesitation could get us both killed."

"Yeah, I seem to be good at getting us into situations that might get us killed."

"Well, you're certainly not helping," he said, the slightest smile on his face. Ariadne sighed. "If we get in trouble in Ratnapurna, you need to do exactly what I tell you to."

"What should I do?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet. We have a friend there, Boda Perumal, who is going to help us hide. He is already forging new documents for us. Eames will go his own way and you and I are together for this one. Oh, will you marry me?"

Ariadne stared at him for a long minute, her face expressionless, before narrowing her eyes. "Um…"

"The documents Boda is forging have us as a married couple. We will travel to the Middle East in a few days and you can't move around in Afghanistan without a male companion and because you're American, it has to be your husband or brother."

"And you opted to go with husband?"

Arthur blushed, and shrugged. "We don't look alike at all, no one would buy it."

"Arthur, we look exactly alike."

"Well, then there goes my logic."


	6. Chapter 6

"Is he dead?" Ariadne asked, nudging Eames with her foot. Arthur chuckled, shaking his head no.

"He sleeps soundly, always has," he said, stretching his arms in front of him. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm exhausted."

"Why don't you take a nap? We have three hours left before we get there, it would be better than nothing," she said.

"I wish it was that easy," he sighed. "I don't sleep well anymore, at all; one, maybe two hours a night, if I'm lucky and I don't really believe in luck."

"Why is your totem a loaded die then?" Ariadne asked, nodding at the red plastic cube in his fingers.

"I make my own luck."

The last three hours of the flight were spent in relative silence; Arthur was tapping away on his chair arm, Ariadne was drawing mazes and Eames was… drooling.

"I mean, really, it's kind of undignified," Ariadne snorted when Eames coughed and pulled his knees up to his chest. "It's like watching a gorilla sleep."

"Gorilla," Arthur grinned, "is a perfect way to describe him." Standing, Arthur bent at the waist, touching his toes and then straightening. "We should land soon. Once we get to Ratnapurna, there won't be much for you to do. Boda will have documents for us to sign and we will have to take some pictures for him to age."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne asked, pulling her shoes back on.

"I wouldn't be a very good husband if I didn't carry a picture of us in my wallet, now would I?" he smirked. "Are you okay?"

"I… I am. I'm just sad, that's all," she said, smiling at him the best she could muster. He took her hand in his and began to rub her fingers softly. "I'm trying to wrap mind my around all of it, of leaving everything I'm familiar with behind and becoming this new person. I don't know how to be a wife, Arthur, they're going to pick up on that."

"Don't worry," he said. "I've been married before, it comes naturally. We had to lose a tail once and Eames forged new documents for Mal and myself. If I can handle her for two weeks, I can handle this." He was trying to be reassuring but as soon as he closed his mouth, he realized that he'd made a mistake. "Well…"

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Ariadne asked, her voice irritated. Arthur sighed; he was in trouble. "You might be able to fake all of this, play house until we're safe again, but this is going to affect me, Arthur. I'm scared right now and you're basically telling that if we just act for a while, everything will be okay."

"It would do you a great service if you stopped trying to twist everything I said into a personal attack, Ariadne," he snipped, pulling his hand out of hers. "I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe right now and I would appreciate it if you would just trust me a little bit. Did you think we were actually getting married? Christ…"

Ariadne looked away so he wouldn't see how hurt she was. He was right, of course. It was silly for her to get so emotionally invested in a non-existent relationship.

"I can't promise you that I will have control of the situation once we land. There are men looking for me and Eames and they want us dead. Mostly me," he added as an afterthought. "It's my fault that you're in the mess so it's my responsibility to get you out of it. I want you to be home with your family more than anything right now. Please, just let me figure this out. We're going to be married, for all intents and purposes, so that we can move freely around Kabul once we get there. I need us to stick together." Arthur stood up and moved towards the cockpit. "I need to talk to the pilot."

Once Arthur had disappeared behind the door, Eames sat up and sighed. "I'm only going to say this once and if you repeat it, I'll deny it, but Arthur is doing the best for you that he knows how."

"I know…"

"No, just let me finish, dearest. The point he was trying to make to you is that emotional attachment you fear won't be evident, will. Fear manifests itself in funny ways. What you will be feeling until you're safe won't be that different from love."

Ariadne and Eames sat, saying nothing, until Arthur came back. As the greenery became clearer and the sun rose higher in the sky, the trio began to mentally prepare for their departure.

The wheels touched down on the runway, bouncing a little, and the jet quickly taxied to a stop. Once the pilot had deplaned, Arthur followed him out of sight. Ariadne hung behind as Eames gathered his belongs and donned his coat.

"You were married, weren't you?" she asked, shivering against the cool morning air. Eames stopped buttoning his coat and stared at the ground. After a long minute, he nodded slowly. "To Gabrielle?"

"She was my life," he said plainly, squeezing Ariadne's shoulder as he passed. Ariadne closed her eyes and prayed to whoever was listening for guidance, patience and strength before following Eames onto the tarmac.

Talking to Arthur was a tall, handsome man in expensive robes. Upon seeing Eames, his face split into a grin and he began to walk towards them, arms open.

"Thomas, my dear boy, I swore I'd never see you again," Boda said, kissing both of Eames cheeks and hugging him tightly. Eames grinned back.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Boda. We'll try harder to make that stick next time, won't we?"

"I hear you have quite the situation on your… you must be the architect," Boda said suddenly, catching sight of Ariadne behind Eames. He smiled gently, and extended his hand. "My name is Boda Perumal. Thomas has told me much about you over the last few weeks."

Ariadne took his hand and was pleasantly surprised when he kissed it lightly. "I'm Ariadne," she said, smiling. He nodded, gesturing towards the waiting car.

"Let's get moving," he said, his accent thick. "Asuntha is preparing breakfast."

The foursome piled into the waiting sedan. On Ariadne's seat was a small pile of papers and a new passport. She flicked open the blue cover and sighed.

"I hope the name is to your liking," Boda said, pointing to her passport. "Arthur told me you were a fan of modern architecture and I figured a little familiarity would be appreciated.

"Wright is my favorite architect," she said simply, running her finger over the embossed ink. "It's perfect, thank you."

"My wife has clothing for you when we arrive. Arthur, we sent for clothes for you, you may borrow clean robes for now if you would like. Such an odd outfit for me to see you in, jeans and a t-shirt," Boda jested. Arthur smiled to himself, still staring out the window. "Ariadne, I take it you are nervous now?"

"What makes you think that?" she responded, tucking the passport into her pocket. Boda laughed.

"You are shaking like a leaf and you've had a death grip on Thomas's knee since we sat down."

Ariadne looked down and realized he was right. She moved her hand back to her own lap and mumbled an apology.

"S'all right. I prefer my left knee anyway," Eames drawled, helping himself to another glass of champagne from the cooler. "Boda, is your oldest old enough for me consider yet?"

"I swear, one call is all it will take," Boda warned, narrowing his eyes. Ariadne grinned, nudging Eames' knee with hers. "Arthur, Asuntha has prepared beautiful flowers in the back for you. I trust that will suffice for your pictures?"

Arthur nodded. "We just need one or two snapshots. Wow, this place has gotten bigger."

Ariadne managed to stifle her gasp as the largest home she had ever seen came into view. "This is unbelievable," she whispered. Boda laughed.

"You have built entire cities, they tell me, and you are impressed by man's restrictive architecture? Humble indeed," he said, climbing out the car and practically walking into a small gaggle of children.

"Arthur!" the oldest one, a girl looking to be fifteen or sixteen, screeched, flinging herself into his arms. Arthur picked her up and spun her around, smiling larger than Ariadne had ever seen him.

"Padma, I have missed you more than you can imagine," he said, kissing her forehead. "You've gotten tall!"

"And you've stayed the same," she laughed. "But these clothes are different!"

"Well, I wasn't exactly planning a cross country tour. Padma, I have someone I want you to meet," he said, turning to face Ariadne. He took her hand and pulled her forward. "This is my wife, Ariadne."

The reaction was almost instantaneous. All of the children gasped and Padma's eyes grew large, her mouth dropping as she grabbed Ariadne and pulled her into her arms.

Ariadne caught Arthur's eye over Padma's shoulder and smiled a small smile; it was go time.

* * *

"I gathered that you didn't tell the children that we were on the run," Arthur said over the rim over his coffee cup. Asuntha smiled and placed her hand on Ariadne's face.

"We could never lie to them, you know that. It is easier for you to spin your own stories. That way there is no confusion. You are a lucky man, Arthur. She is easier to fool with," Asuntha said, running her thumb over Ariadne's cheek. "Come with me, dear. We must get you ready for your pictures."

Arthur watched the two women leave, Ariadne's face pricelessly confused. He smiled to himself and turned back to Boda who was, surprisingly, not smiling.

"You have brought great danger here, Arthur," he said, his voice low. "I will help you this time, but no more after this. Not now that Asuntha is sick, we cannot afford the risk. And you bring her too? What have you done to need this kind of help?"

"Cobol Engineering," Arthur said simply, setting his cup down. Boda leaned back in his chair, tensed. "They want me for Cobb's debt."

"The papers this morning say that Robert Fischer is dissolving his father's empire. I had a hunch that was your doing. Are you running from Cobol with Ki Saito's company backing you?"

"You've always known too much, Boda," Arthur replied, standing and leaning against the wall. "Saito hired us for inception, yes. It was successful."

"Inception? Impossible," Boda said, waving his hand. Arthur shook his head.

"It's possible and we did it. Three layers."

"I will take your word for it, Arthur," Boda sighed. "She is young. Much too young for this mess you are in."

"I know," Arthur agreed. "I am working as fast as I can. Where will you send Eames?"

Boda shrugged. "Disappearing has never been hard for Thomas. I asked him if he wished to go to Bali, but you know how well that went over."

"He should let her go," Arthur said, sighing. Boda smiled and nodded towards the room Asuntha and Ariadne were in.

"You should let her go."

"That's different, Boda. Ariadne is…"

"Alive? Cognizant? What is the difference, Arthur? She is worth protecting, as is Gabrielle to Thomas." Arthur nodded, turning towards the door as it opened.

"Wow," he said, his eyebrows rising. Asuntha had dressed Ariadne in cream linen pants, a light pink shirt and golden Sari. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun, with a small white flower fixed into it.

"Now, pictures."


	7. Chapter 7

"The pictures were a brilliant idea," Ariadne said as she, Arthur and Asuntha crossed the backyard to the flower garden. Arthur smiled and nodded. "I never would have thought of that."

"That's why you're the architect," he teased, taking her hand. She poked his ribs with her elbow and grinned up at him. "In all honesty, it was Boda's idea and seeing as how he actually is married, it was advice I decided to take."

They rounded the corner and Ariadne was overcome with joy as every color she had ever seen and some she hadn't exploded before her eyes. Big, leafy flowers spilled out of the hillside, cupping delicate, barely-there blooms that wove their way in and out. Foliage puddled on the grass, like some kind of perfect rainstorm.

"Asuntha, this is gorgeous," Ariadne breathed, her hand over her mouth. Asuntha smiled and thanked her, gesturing for a stone bench nestled amongst two apricot trees. Arthur and Ariadne took a seat next to each other and Asuntha began to laugh.

"Try again," she said, turning Arthur towards Ariadne and leaning her against his chest. "You're taking wedding pictures, not eating dinner at a restaurant."

It was awkward at first, like trying to swim fully clothed, but as Asuntha snapped away, it became more and more natural. As she was preparing to wrap up, her youngest, Kadija, called out to Ariadne, completely butchering her name, and the reaction her two subjects had was almost missed. With a simple snap, she caught it, the perfect picture. Their picture.

Ariadne had laughed, turning her head towards the little girl. Arthur's attention was elsewhere, completely affixed on his Ariadne. His eyes were full of a happiness Asuntha had never seen before. When she developed the photo an hour later and showed it to Boda, he smiled and nodded.

"You have a gift, my love," he said, kissing his wife's cheek. He placed the photo in an envelope and handed it to Arthur in passing. Pulling the wallet-sized picture out, he smiled so large he was sure his face would break. He slid it carefully into his wallet, content to have one memory that Ariadne wouldn't.

Night had fallen over Ratnapurna with the shouts of sweat soaked children playing in the backyard. Boda's chef had whipped up quite the feast and though they had not eaten with the family, Arthur and Ariadne had stayed up and chatted until the youngest of the Perumal children were tucked away, sleeping. While Ariadne helped Asuntha clear the table, Arthur snuck out onto the roof where Padma was sitting, watching her father chase her brothers, trying to wrangle them for bed. He slid up behind her and tapped her nose, or rather tried to and failed when Padma grabbed his hand, twisted his arm and pulled him down to his back. Grinning, Arthur stared up at the stars and sighed.

"It's good to be here with all of you again, Padma," Arthur said, laying his head in his friend's lap. She smiled down at him, the golden stud in her nose glinting in the moonlight. "I've missed you so much."

"We've missed you," she said, running her fingers through his hair. Their friendship was natural and comfortable and completely devoid of romance, something that he took a great relief in, for Ariadne's sake. Of course, him being thirteen years her senior helped. "Mother says that you and Ariadne are very happy."

"We are," Arthur said, his eyes beginning to close.

"Mother is lying, Arthur. Who is she?" Padma said, her voice thick. Arthur opened one eye and looked up at the young girl.

"She's the architect from our last mission and I got her into some trouble," he replied, knowing it was better not to lie to her. Padma nodded. "I need to keep her safe."

"I don't doubt that, nor do I doubt the feelings you are feeling are real."

"What feelings?"

"You watch her," Padma smiled. "Everything she does is observed. Trust me, I know."

"How do you know, Mad?"

"Because I'm watching you," she sighed. "In a different life, Arthur, this would have been our story."

"I know," he said, sitting up and taking her hand. "Padma, your father has made a huge sacrifice letting us come here. I can't abuse his generosity anymore."

"What are you saying?" Padma said, crossing her arms. There were tears in her eyes; she knew.

"When we leave…"

Padma was on him, her lips soft and chaste and after a mere second, they parted.

"I can accept any reality you give me, Arthur. Please don't take away my dreams."

She stood and climbed back in the window, leaving Arthur alone in his thoughts until Ariadne slid out onto the smooth tile and sat down next to him. She hugged her knees to her chest, shaking against the cold. Arthur pulled his jacket off and draped it around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"You made her cry," Ariadne said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"She's sixteen, that's not uncommon."

"Arthur," Ariadne said gently, looking up at him. "She loves you."

"Maybe," he replied, leaning back until they were lying down. "Padma and I have known each other since she was a child, we have a pretty strong bond. It's not uncommon for crushes to develop like that. It would never work, though."

"Why? Because you're Western or because you're too old for her?"

"Because I'm already married," he grinned, kissing Ariadne's head. "This is real for us now, Ari." The sound of her nickname on his lips caused her heart to beat faster. "We can't believe that we are pretending anymore, we are living this life."

"How can we ever acquire enough detail to make a captor think it's real?" It was something she had been thinking about all day and it was the majority of what was causing her fear and doubt.

"It's called contrived memories," he said, shifting so that he was looking at her. "Basically, we're going to have to sit down around write out our memories and then drill them until we believe them. It's essentially what the Mr. Charles gambit does. Introduces a contrived memory and then forces the subject to believe it has already happened."

"But that has some basis in reality. I mean Fischer really had had training, just not from Cobb."

"It doesn't have to," he said, sitting up. He offered Ariadne a hand, tugging her to her feet. He stopped, reveling for a minute in their closeness. He placed his hand on her face and brought his forehead down to hers. Her breath was coming in short, gentle wisps against his chin. He felt a tug in his stomach and warmth through his body, feeling comfortable and at ease for the first time in two days.

When he kissed her, they ignored the hoots and hollers of Boda and his boys.

They spent three hours that night, passing ideas back and forth, until they settled on a story they liked. As Arthur read the details of their wedding ceremony out loud, something stopped Ariadne.

"You know what I just realized?" she said, tapping her pen on the notebook she was writing in.

"What's that?" he asked tugging his sweater off.

"Our life is idyllic. We've been together for five years and nothing bad has happened. That won't read true, bad things happen all the time."

"Well, I was actually just about to bring that up. There are four emotions that are nearly impossible to contrive; tragedy, rage, enthrallment and ecstasy. We will have to draw from real life experiences to replicate those feelings. Have you had any tragedy in your life?"

"My brother died when I was nine," she said, her voice sad. Arthur stopped writing and looked at her, nodding for her to go on. "I… I still think about it all the time, my mother crying on the floor of her bedroom for days. My father started drinking again. It took us years to get back to normal. Now, I only see him in my dreams. Well, I used to. I haven't dreamed in three weeks, not like I did before."

"I'm sorry, Ari," he said simply, kissing her cheek, not surprised when he tasted salty tears. She sighed, wiping her eyes and propping herself up with her hands.

"What about you?"

"Rage," he replied, his face darkening. "I can recreate rage easily. I had a pretty angsty teenage life." He smiled at her, to show her that he was only half serious, but his smile faltered when she frowned.

"That won't work," she said. "Haven't you ever been so mad that it made you blind?"

"Once. It sounds like you have too."

"I contributed tragedy, rage is all yours." Ariadne closed her eyes and massaged her temples. "When?"

"Three years ago. I was on a job with Cobb, Mal and an architect named Nash. It went horribly, horribly wrong. We all four ended up in chains. It took two days, but we eventually got out. While we were there, they tortured and raped Mal, right in front of Dom. It nearly broke him."

"Arthur…"

"I killed every man in the room when we were free," he said, his face tight. "We went home and never spoke of it again, but I went back to that place in my dreams many times."

The silence was punctuated only by rhythmic breathing. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to not be too intrusive. She couldn't picture it, not really. Sure, she'd seen him wield a weapon in their dreams, but the thought of him actually pulling the trigger and ending someone's life, multiple lives, made her a little sick. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts. Nearly half an hour passed before they spoke again.

"We should have done enthrallment and ecstasy first," she said, squeezing his hand. He shook his head.

"It's better this way. Now we can go to sleep happy," he smiled. "Enthrallment."

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean. Like happiness?"

"No," he said, grinning. "That uncontained joy that you can't control, the kind that leaves you breathlessly happy and contented."

Ariadne couldn't help herself; he was like a kid on Christmas morning, animatedly describing to her the emotion that he was, in that very second, embodying. She burst out laughing, great, gulping laughter until he was laughing too. Falling against each other, they laughed until their sides hurt, like some kind of twisted catharsis from the last few days. Wiping his eyes, Arthur turned his head to look at her.

"The happy emotions are much easier to fake," he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "That leaves ecstasy."

"Well, I have exactly one experience in my life to draw on there," Ariadne sighed, feeling silly. Arthur grinned, his eyes shining. "Arthur…"

He pulled her to him, crashing together with a kiss so hard she saw stars and tasted blood. Her fingers snared through his hair, pulling him on top of her.

It was practically automatic. He tugged her shirt off over her head as her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Her bra was gone and suddenly, it was real. The emotion was there, the tragedy, the rage, the enthrallment all compounded to create pure ecstasy.

His name sounded in the back of her throat, barely more than grunt, and he felt any semblance of control slipping away as he tugged at her jeans. His lips found her neck, his tongue skating over her collar bone. She groped behind her, finding the light and turning it off.

Plunged into nearly complete darkness, the sensations, the touching, feeling, was all amplified a million times. She pulled his shirt out of his pants, working on his belt at the same time.

Stripped of their clothes, of their last security, Ariadne thought her heart might burst. Kicking the blanket away, she tugged him on top of her and as he moved towards her, his legs brushing against hers, she gasped.

"Wait," she breathed. Her hand felt its way over to the bedside table and when her bishop clinked to the wood, she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

A flash of pain came first, followed by a rush of adrenaline. She hissed slightly, biting down on his shoulder. He stopped.

"Ariadne, I…"

"No, don't stop. Please." She was begging and she didn't care.

His hand smoothed over her thighs and breasts, up to her face where he kissed her again and again, like it was the last time he might get the chance. Sweat beaded on his forehead, slick against her skin.

It was more like a dance than anything, he would think later that night as she lay sleeping next to him. Gentle rolls and bumps turning into frenzied, rhythmic thrusts that left them gasping for air.

They finished together, collapsing against the wall. When they'd left the bed, neither one of them was sure. As they slid down the smooth plaster, Arthur mumbled her name against Ariadne's shoulders, peppering her skin with sweet kisses, barely noticeable through her stupor.

At some point, they fell asleep on the soft carpet, still entwined and when he awoke, startled by a fleeting half dream, he carried her to bed, tucking the silk sheets around her. He stood for a minute, blanket wrapped around his waist, and allowed himself a small, contented smile. She was soundly asleep, her body completely relaxed and he understood now.

It was the greatest tug he'd ever felt in his life, most unfulfilled desire he'd ever explored. Just looking at her filled him with an emotion he couldn't describe nor wait to recreate. He sat softly next to her, running his fingers across her back and down over the slope of her bottom, his hand coming to rest on her calf. He understood now the importance of these memories, because he had a part of her that no one could fake.

Slipping under covers, he draped his arm over her lithe frame and tucked his head into her shoulder. Kissing her crown, he whispered an 'I love you' and drifted back to sleep.

Ariadne smiled to herself, more than happy to leave the moment be.


	8. Chapter 8

Ariadne found him on the balcony the next morning, dressed for the day already, staring out over the lush rice fields through squinted eyes. She tightened her grip on the blanket wrapped around her and sat down in his lap. He smiled up at her, a crooked, naked smile that she hadn't seen before.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, kissing his forehead. He nodded.

"Better than I have in years."

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, popping a grape in her mouth from the bunch on the table. He looked back out into the field and shrugged.

"Just thinking."

"About what?" She twisted her hair up into a bun, fastening it with two bobby pins. Her arms raised above her head allowed the blanket to slip down, revealing soft skin and small red patches left from the previous night. Arthur smiled, running his fingers over the bruises.

"Last night," he said, wrapping his arms around her body. "I just was having some irrational fears when I woke up that I couldn't shake, that's all."

Ariadne sighed, resting her head on his. "Don't worry, I thought about the same thing. We'll handle it if it becomes a problem."

Arthur looked up at her. "A baby would make it a lot harder to disappear."

Ariadne nodded. "I know. But there's nothing we can do about it now."

"I know, but still..."

"Don't over analyze it, Arthur. Last night was the best night of my life, can we just not over analyze it?"

He smiled, kissing her neck. "Well, I had a few questions actually."

* * *

An hour later, Arthur strode into the kitchen, practically skipping, dressed in a different outfit than he'd worn earlier and whistling.

Boda and Asuntha exchanged gazes before bursting into laughter. Arthur stirred honey into his coffee and poured a glass of orange juice for Ariadne.

"Laugh all you want," he said, raising his eyebrows as he took a sip from his cup. "I don't think it's funny."

"Nor do we, dear," Asuntha said, "but we've wondered for years what it would take to get you to loosen up."

"Now we know," Boda grinned. Arthur smiled back, leaning against the counter. "I have papers for you to sign today. Your plane leaves at 5."

"Already?" Ariadne asked as she shuffled in, her hair still dripping.

"Indeed. Thomas left before sun up. I hear he's bound for Bucharest. A pick up job in his favor, I'm sure."

"Is this what we have to sign?" Ariadne asked, picking up a stack of papers. Boda nodded without turning to her. She shrugged and picked up a pen, signing her new name with a flourish. "Done," she said, tilting her head to side and sticking her tongue out a little. "Yeah, done."

"You should go straight to Kabul and look for Omar. He has a plan once you get there," Boda said. Arthur nodded, sitting in the chair next to Asuntha and crossing his legs.

"There's juice on the counter for you, Ariadne. Do you have a courier we could send for clothes and such?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, Padma left this morning with one of my associates. They will be back soon. Arthur, we sent for a PASIV the day you left Los Angeles. It should be here by the time you depart. In the meantime, you two should rest as much as you can," he said, smirking at Asuntha.

"What are they talking about? Hey, why is everyone laughing?" Ariadne asked, crossing her arms.

"The hickey on your neck is gigantic," Boda's daughter Rajesh said, smiling around and apple. Ariadne's eyes grew wide and her hand flew to neck. She hurried out of the kitchen, mumbling to herself. Arthur couldn't help but smile.

"Arthur, I spoke with Miles today. He wanted me to tell you that Dominick is adjusting well to his home life. He was distressed to hear of your predicament, however."

"Who? Miles or Dom?"

"Both, I'm sure, but I speak for Dominick only. What will you do once you meet with Omar?"

"Bide our time," Arthur said. "I know they're going to catch up with us eventually, but I want to be far enough away from the others that when they find us, it will be on my terms, not theirs."

"And Ariadne?"

"Once we get to Kabul, she'll have to be with me constantly, but I am trying to get her to Switzerland. They won't extradite her and it will be almost impossible to find her. Once I know she's safe, I'm out of here."

"Does she know that?"

"I'm pretty sure she does, but we'll go over it en route."

Arthur shoved out of his chair, ran a little water into his cup and then crossed back to the table, signing the documents and sticking the pen in his pocket. "Thanks again, Boda."

"Anytime, my son."

Arthur took his time crossing the compound to get back to their room, taking in as much of the lush countryside that he could. Boda and his family had made their money through the rice industry, though his work in extraction had padded their wallet considerably. Dotted along the seven hundred acres the family owned was rice paddies and small, nondescript buildings. Anyone seeing pictures wouldn't believe they were part of the same property as the mansion the family lived in.

Arthur dug his hands into his pockets, the rich corduroy warming immediately. The fast pace of his life sometimes wore thin and in moments like, alone and quiet, he realized how schmaltzy the last few days had been.

It seemed a bit trite, he thought, to call it serene, because it wasn't. They were running for their lives, crossing the world in an attempt to get far enough away. He knew it wouldn't last forever, that they would be caught eventually and that one or both of them would probably be tortured. He knew that, though she had been a willing participant in the inception, she wasn't privy to their prior dealings. It was a terrifying reality that, until now, Arthur had been able to avoid.

Reaching the edge of the field, Arthur knelt, his knee an inch off the ground and rested his chin on his hand. He'd never been a position like this, one where he was the fall guy, not Cobb, and to that, he attributed his uncharacteristic behavior. She'd called him stoic and she was right, he most assuredly was. That being said, he wasn't surprised by his willingness to be open with her.

He'd come to terms with the fact that his line of work was dangerous more often than not and because of this, forced himself to forge ahead sans emotion. He came off as steely and reserved and that served him just fine. He got the job done.

She hadn't changed that much, really. It wasn't as though she had walked in and all of a sudden his heart was bursting with love, because it wasn't. His primary emotion was still that of concern. He was concerned for his life, for hers, for whether or not they would even make it to Kabul in one piece.

They'd had sex, partially utilizing fear as a motivator, he told himself. He was comfortable with her, but, nonetheless, wasn't quite ready to call it a wash. They were, after all, still running for their lives.

"Arthur?" Ariadne called, letting him know she was approaching. He stood, brushing his knees off, and smiled. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," he said, placing his arm around her shoulders. "Ariadne, can we talk?"

"I sure hope so," she smiled. "What's…"

"You know I don't love you, right?" he said, his face serious. She stared at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Really, because that's not what you said this morning…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

She looked down at the ground, confused.

"Arthur, did something happen? You were fine until you talked to Boda this morning."

"I just realized that we still have work to do. I let myself lose sight of that a little, that's all."

"Well, God forbid you don't button your top button," she said, softly. He sighed, dropping his head. "Look, let's go pack. Padma is back with clothes."

She began to walk away and while he knew he should say something, anything to lighten the mood again, he just couldn't find the words.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur and Ariadne packed in tense silence, pulling tags off their new clothes and folding them neatly into worn luggage Boda had given them.

"It will look more natural," he had said, handing them two large, leather bags.

Sunlight poured in through the picture window to their backs, warming the stone floor and allowing Ariadne to shed her extra layers. Arthur went to great lengths to avert his gaze as her shirt tugged up, exposing soft skin and finger shaped bruises.

"How long is the flight?" she asked, tucking her sweater into her carry on. Arthur snapped the suitcase shut and sat down on the bed next to it.

"Probably about six hours unless we hit bad weather over India. It will be after midnight when we land, which is ideal. Come here, I need to go over some stuff with you."

"I'm fine right here," she said, her voice thin. Arthur pursed his lips, trying not to roll his eyes. "What do you need?"

"You'll have to have a head scarf on before we exit the plane and as long as we're in public, you need to stay right with me."

"Kabul is a moderate city, I really don't think I need a male companion one hundred percent of the time, Arthur," she snipped, sitting on the ottoman across from him. He looked at her, his eyes imploring a little patience.

"It's not about their rules, Ariadne, it's a matter of not getting kidnapped the second you step off the plane. There are men, right now, within fifty miles of this very house. They have guns that shoot real bullets and they will not hesitate to use any means necessary to extract information."

"I got it. I get it, Arthur. I understand this is a big deal; I'm not trying to simplify it, just calm down, okay? Lord, what else would real guns shoot?"

"Do you have your totem?"

"No, I'm going to run headlong into an extraction without it. It's not my first day, you know."

"This is so pleasant," Arthur sighed, packing away his laptop and phone. Ariadne grumbled something under her breath, but Arthur heard the only word that mattered: lied. He turned around to face her, grabbing his vest and putting it on.

"I didn't lie to you, Ariadne. I never meant to lie to you, that wasn't my intention, at least. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I mean it."

Ariadne nodded. "Once we get to Kabul, how long will we have before they catch us?"

"Hopefully a couple weeks," he said. "But we have to be ready to move at a moment's notice."

"What are we going to do in Afghanistan for a couple of weeks? Isn't it about three hundred degrees in the middle of the day?" she asked, yawning. Arthur smiled a little.

"There's a man we're going to see named Omar Hussein who will be a valuable asset. He was part of the team that invented the PASIV and he knows more about dream sharing than anyone else in the world. He taught Miles everything he knows, who in turn taught Cobb and, well… you know how it ends."

A sharp knock sent Arthur's hand to his waistband, fingering the Glock before answering the door. He relaxed when Boda came in, hands up.

"I have never had a weapon drawn on me in my own home before," he smiled. Arthur apologized, setting the gun on the table. "No, no. Keep it close. They are getting near."

"Who is?" Ariadne asked, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"Cobol's grunts," Boda answered, his face waxing with disgust. "We have had a tail on them since you landed."

"How did they know where we were?" she asked. Arthur chuckled.

"We tore out of a five star hotel without checking out or paying a dime and left behind all our luggage. Espionage it was not. Will you be in danger once we leave?"

"I doubt it. They won't get anything out of me or Asuntha and the children have already gone. I was just coming up to take your bags down and say goodbye. We are about to head out into the field and see if we can avoid unnecessary intervention."

Boda hugged Ariadne and kissed both of her cheeks. He handed her a small gold box, telling her to open it on the plane. He turned to Arthur, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders.

"You have grown so much, Arthur. Not the same little boy that washed up in the Ganges, are you? Keep your head down, your eyes open and remember what you learned. Best of luck."

Boda picked up their bags and walked out with another word. Ariadne and Arthur stood in silence for a minute, before he turned to her and nodded.

"Let's go."

Once in the air, neither of them had much to say. Arthur buried himself in paperwork until he nodded off, about two hours into the flight. Once she was sure he was asleep, Ariadne dug the gold box Boda had given her out of her pocket and opened it.

Nestled against red satin was a delicate gold hourglass, hanging from a silk thin chain. The note tucked into the box said, "Always make time," and was signed in Asuntha's small, neat handwriting. Ariadne smiled to herself, hooking the chair around her neck.

She leaned back in her chair and tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. Sighing, she sat up and crossed her legs. She cast a long glance at Arthur for the first time in an hour or so and realized he wasn't sleeping.

"You don't have to ignore me," she said, not surprised when his eyes slid open.

"I thought it would be easier," he replied, sitting his chair up.

"What were you thinking about for three hours then?"

"Nothing," he said, simply. "I am just exhausted, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about the other night?"

"Not really."

Ariadne pressed her fingers to her forehead, hoping it would relieve the pressure behind her skull. "Arthur, I'm a big girl, you don't need to treat me like the truth is going to break me. I don't have the patience for this."

"I'm sorry, I was trying to be accommodating."

"Well, don't be. We need to get in the right state of mind for this, I was thinking about it last night. It's a bad time to be messing around."

"I agree," he said, probably a little too quickly.

"So let's just keep our heads clear and do what we have to."

"Okay."

If possible, the last three hours were even worse than the first three. Ariadne was glad when plane bumped to stop. She pulled the white scarf out of her bag and wrapped it around her head.

"Such an archaic concept," she said, fingering the soft linen.

"A little modesty isn't a bad thing," he replied, donning his coat. Ariadne rolled her eyes, following him down the aisle. He stopped at the door, unbeknownst to Ariadne, who walked into him.

"Arthur, what the…"

In a flash, he shoved her behind the bulkhead door and fired two shots into the dark. Ariadne covered her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Let's go," he called over the roar of the engines. He dragged her up, practically carrying her down the stairs and past the bodies of the two men he had just dropped.

"Oh my God," she gasped, running behind him. "Arthur…"

"Just keep moving," he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the alley between the tarmac and the airport. After a few minutes, they crouched into a corner, both breathing heavily.

"What was that?" she cried, her whole body shaking.

"They must have gotten Boda," he said, tasting bile in the back of his throat. He shook his head, and pulled a small pistol out of his coat pocket. Ariadne shook her head no.

"I won't…"

"Take it, please. You have to. We just got ambushed and we haven't even been here ten minutes. They are going to be all over us. You-"

A foot swung out of the darkness, colliding with Arthur's throat. A crack sounded as the butt of a gun slammed down onto Ariadne's head and then, silence.


	10. Chapter 10

Ariadne was scared to look. The throbbing in her head was almost deafening and she was sure she looked like hell. She heard low chatter in the background and couldn't stop the goose bumps from rising.

Opening her eyes a sliver, she could see Arthur, still unconscious, about three feet from her. The angry purple bruise that had blossomed on his neck made her cringe.

"Arthur?" she whispered, inching over to him. She shook his shoulders, and whispered his name again. Groaning, he grabbed her arm and worked himself into a sitting position, rubbing his neck. "Arthur, where the hell are we?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said, looking around. "But it's not good."

"How did they get to us so fast? I thought we'd have weeks, not five minutes."

"I don't know," he replied, helping her up. "Unless they got Boda."

Arthur and Ariadne took quick stock of their surroundings, checking for the totems first and then their weapons, shocked to find them still there.

"I don't understand," he said, checking the clip of his gun. "Something isn't right here." He tossed his die on the floor, pursing his lips when it flipped right to the four. "We're not dreaming."

"No, you wouldn't be, would you Arthur?" A short, skinny man appeared from the other room, rubbing his hands together. Arthur's eyes bugged as he stepped in front of Ariadne. "Sorry about you neck."

"Omar?" he asked, confused. "What the…"

"I wish I'd had a more elegant solution, but we caught wind that Cobol was meeting you at the airport and we had no choice. Ariadne, are you okay?"

"This is who we're looking for?" Ariadne whispered into Arthur's back. He nodded.

"You're not looking for me anymore, are you?" Omar grinned, gesturing for them to follow him. "My friend is a doctor, he needs to make sure you don't have a concussion." Omar pulled a chair out for Ariadne, who was still eyeing him warily, and sat her down. As another man, taller and heavier than Omar, flashed a light in Ariadne's eyes and asked her a series of questions, Omar sat across from Arthur, offering him a drink.

"Something heavy," Arthur replied, rubbing his neck. "Jesus, did you really have to kick me?"

"I didn't, Jafar did," Omar said, nodding to the behemoth of a man over his shoulder. Arthur considered the man for a minute, thankful his neck hadn't been broken. "Cobol doesn't know this place, so you'll be safe. We got your bags after we did a sweep of the airstrip and the PASIV arrived this morning."

"You're going under?" Ariadne asked, thanking the doctor with a nod. "Why?"

"Not just Arthur, you too. We need to submerge you in a dream for a while, get your subconscious ready for war, because there's a whole lot of ugly coming your way," Omar said, pulling a manila file from the briefcase at his side. "Here is what we were able to glean concerning your tail. I'm sure you can find more than we could, eh Arthur?"

"Are Boda and Asuntha alright?" Arthur asked, flipping the file open. Omar nodded, telling them that they had eluded Cobol easily in their rice fields, and that the children had retreated to family in the North.

"Are you two hungry?" Omar asked. When they both shook their heads no, he left the room, returning with the PASIV and two reclined chairs. "Then we need to get to work."

Ariadne and Arthur rolled up their sleeves almost automatically, checking for their totems, and lay down, not even noticing the prick of the needle. A gentle whoosh sounded and a second later, they were both asleep.

* * *

Ariadne wasn't surprised when she found herself walking down a city street, dressed in her normal clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Arthur walking towards her.

"We need to find Omar again," he said when they met. She nodded. "It looks like it's just us for now."

"Why is that?" Shouldn't our projections be here?"

"I don't think this is our dream, I think it's his," Arthur said, crossing to the sidewalk. "That's why it's so minimalistic."

They started to walk, passing empty restaurants, stores and homes, until the road melted into countryside. For almost an hour they trekked, not saying much, finally reaching a small, cinder block house set amongst some trees.

Arthur knocked twice, standing back with his arms crossed. Ariadne fingered her totem nervously, casting a sideways glance at Arthur. He was entirely too calm.

"How do you know there's not an army in there?"

"I don't," Arthur replied simply, "but that wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever encountered behind a closed door before."

Ariadne frowned, wondering exactly what he meant. The door swung open and before she had a chance to react, Arthur pulled her in.

"The city was a nice touch," Omar said, sitting at the table.

"Why aren't there any other people here?" Ariadne asked. Omar grinned.

"If you dream long enough, Ariadne, you develop startling amounts of control."

Omar poured a cup of coffee for himself and the other two, and peeked out of the blinds.

"What are you looking for?" Ariadne asked, stirring creamer into her coffee.

"Projections," he replied. "Now that you're here, it will be harder to hold them off. Arthur, I only put seven minutes on the PASIV, because all I need to tell you that Cobol is willing to negotiate for your life."

"What do they want?" Arthur asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Ariadne."

* * *

"No," Arthur said, ripping the needle out of his arm.

"Arthur, you didn't even consider it," Omar said, respooling the lines. Arthur shook his head.

"Absolutely not. I don't pawn people off, Omar, this isn't a game."

"I would like to have an opinion in this-"

"No, just stop." Arthur said, holding his hand up. "How do you know they'd take her?

"I really hate where this is going," Ariadne groaned.

"We found and tortured your original detail, a man named Sohail. We had to go pretty far to get what we needed, but…"

"Omar," Arthur said suddenly. "That's brilliant."

"What is?" he asked, confused.

"All you have to do is destroy those memories." Arthur was smiling to himself, laying back down.

"I…"

"Go deep," Arthur said. "Take anything that would lead them to her, to Cobb and Eames."

"Arthur!" Omar snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. "This isn't as cut and dry as extraction. It is more difficult than inception, not to mention incredibly dangerous. If I mess up, you would be in a coma for the rest of your life, if it didn't kill you."

"Omar, they'll kill me anyway if they get here."

Omar left the room without responding, closing the door behind him. Arthur followed him with his, before turning to Ariadne.

"It's called elimination and it's taboo, even in the dream community. It involves a massive amount of work, but it can be done."

"How does it work?" Ariadne asked, shifting uncomfortably. She didn't like either one of the proposed plans. "And why did we spend so much time crafting new memories if you knew this was possible?"

"Omar and I would go in together and he would destroy everything I built from memory. He would kill every projection, destroy every building, leaving the memory empty."

"Well, that's lovely."

"It is dangerous, but when done right, it can be enough to completely derail an extraction. It would give you enough time to get out of Afghanistan, find Eames and come up with another plan."

"You won't remember this?"

"I won't remember much of the last five years, no."

"That doesn't seem like a fair compromise. Besides, Cobol knows where you've been. Just because the memories aren't there doesn't mean that they don't have solid proof that you were with Cobb. You signed a contract."

"I know that, but these men deal in total truths. You work with dreams enough, you live in a constant state of paranoia."

"So what?" Ariadne asked, leaning forward. "I'm just supposed to sit here while he takes an ice pick to your memories?"

"No," Arthur replied, tugging his coat off. "You'll go find Eames in Bucharest and then go to Kyoto and lie low at Saito's until I can get back to you."

"You won't even know who we are!"

Arthur frowned, and pulled out his die, handing it to her. Ariadne shook her head no, sitting on her hands.

"Take it. If you don't, I'll have no reason to believe you are who you say you are when I get there."

"It will be useless then!"

"Just take it, Ariadne. I have a plan."

Ariadne held her hand out reluctantly, swallowing dread when the cube fell into her hand. He closed her fingers with his and kissed her knuckles.

"See you soon, alright?"

"Alright."


	11. Chapter 11

"You can't let him do this," Ariadne said, stomping into Omar's office. She crossed her arms, assuming her full height, not that that was saying much, and set her face. "He has too much to lose."

"I know that, Ariadne," Omar sighed, pulling his glasses off. Though she couldn't be sure, she thought Omar was at least Boda's age, if not older, though he'd aged a hundred years in the last ten minutes. "It's not timely anyway. It would take me two or three days to get it all done and we can't stay here for that long."

"What are we going to do then?" Arthur called from the other room. Omar scowled.

"Right now, we're leaving. We need to get to Kabul before sunrise. I'm sure Arthur has briefed you on appropriate clothing?"

"With as often as it get mentions, it almost feels like it's going to be a problem regardless," Ariadne sighed. Omar shrugged, handing her the blue scarf draped around his neck. "Thanks."

It took them a few minutes to pack up, not saying much until they were walking out to a black SUV.

"The next two hours are going to be spent on a dirt road that is known for insurgents," Omar said, handing them their bags.

"You aren't coming with us?" Ariadne asked. Omar shook his head no.

"I'm a wanted man, it wouldn't be advantageous for me to stroll about our capital city. Arthur, when you arrive, call me and I'll tell you what's next."

Arthur and Ariadne thanked Omar and piled into the SUV with Jafar the Neck Kicker, who thankfully sat in the front with the driver.

Settling into a half slumber, Ariadne couldn't help but be on edge. She kept thinking about Omar's warning, that there were insurgents along these roads.

How had she ended up in this position? How in the world did she go from being nearly done with her degree and looking forward to a life of fulfillment to thinking that the limitations of man were damning enough to her creation that she wanted to drop out of school?

She cursed Cobb, at least a little, for all of it, since he'd come to Miles for an architect.

But it was, above all else, pure creation. She was utilizing her gift in a way her degree would never have allowed her.

And then there was Arthur. She guessed that it was show time once they got to Kabul, that the front would be back up and everything would have to be honky dory again, though she doubted they would have much to play a loving, married couple now that Cobol knew they were there.

He was well intentioned, she knew. He was just doing what he knew best, keeping everything in order and going from there, but she suspected strongly that this was the first time he had done it on his own, without Cobb. His nervous finger tapping was enough to tell her that.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, resting her hand on his. He nodded without taking his eyes off the road. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," he said, looking at her. He forced a small smiled and went back to staring, bouncing his leg this time. "Just… I don't like this at all. Any of it."

"Me neither," Ariadne agreed, taking her hand back. "I really think that getting blown up by a roadside bomb would offend Cobol."

"Not blown up," Jafar said suddenly from the front, cause both Ariadne and Arthur to jump. "If they pull us over, they'll assassinate you both and then decapitate you and leave your heads by the road as a reminder for other tourists."

Ariadne looked at Arthur, her mouth open. He bit his lip, unable to stop the smile.

"Why are you grinning?" Ariadne asked, incredulous.

"Oh, come on. The first thing we hear him say in six hours is that and you don't find it funny? I guess not," he shrugged, turning back to look out the window.

An hour after they left, the SUV slowed to a stop. Arthur looked at Ariadne and leaned to the front, meeting the muzzle of Jafar's gun halfway.

"Out," he said, his voice cool. Arthur took a deep breath, and nodded. He and Ariadne climbed out of the car and watched it drive away, their bags and the PASIV hitting the ground with a thud a kilometer ahead.

"This is bad," he said, rolling his sleeves up. Sweat had already formed around his brow and around his mouth. "It's got to be 120 degrees out here."

Ariadne felt it too, a choking heat she had never experienced before. She tied her hair up before draping the scarf over her head. They reached their bags and after Arthur was sure the PASIV was in fine condition, he opened Ariadne's bag and dug out a black shawl.

"What're you doing? I thought…"

"We lose moisture through our head," he said, tying the cloth around his head and tossing the ends over his shoulder. "If you keep your head covered, you won't get dehydrated as fast."

"Arthur-"

"We need to keep moving, if we don't-"

"Arthur-"

"-then we'll run the risk of collapsing and-"

"Arthur!" Arthur stopped walking and turned to face Ariadne, tears rolling down her cheeks. He stood where he was, unsure what to do.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to be here! I don't want to be in the middle of the fucking desert! I want to go home!"

Arthur sighed, walking towards her as he pulled his vest off. "We are trying to go home, Ariadne. I am trying as hard as I can. Now please, come on, we can't just stand here, we'll be noticed."

"Where are we going to be able to go and not be noticed, Arthur? There's nothing out here!"

Arthur turned and pointed west. "If we go towards the horizon, we'll hit water eventually. I think there's a small town we can lie low in, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Wait, you been out here before?" Ariadne asked, wiping her eyes. Arthur grinned.

"Where do you think we found Eames?"

* * *

2500 miles to the north, Eames relaxed in a plush armchair in a small bodega in Bucharest, half listening to the woman speaking to him in heavily accented English.

"Am I boring you?"

It sounded so familiar, the same schpeal he'd spun a thousand times. Signing, Eames turned back her and nodded.

"Yes." He shoved out of his chair, grabbed his coat and walked out into the frigid Romanian night, pulling his coat together around him.

He had no sooner made it back to his hotel than did his phone ring. Answering it, he was less than thrilled to hear static.

"Hello? Hello? Alright, good-"

"Eames?"

"Arthur?"

"Eames, I need to call Boda and tell him we're in trouble-"

"Mate, I can barely hear you."

"-his men dumped us in the de-"

"Arthur?"

"Call Bo-"

The line went dead. Eames furrowed his brow. It wasn't like Arthur to not give specific instructions and he really didn't like how choppy the signal had been.

Boda answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Boda, I think there's a situation in Kabul. Listen, I just talked to Arthur and I could barely hear him. You don't think something's happened, do you?"

"I don't know, Thomas. Perhaps you should try and get a hold of Omar."

"Arthur told me specifically to call you, or at least I think he did."

"Then I'll call Omar."

"Right. Goodbye." Eames sat on the end of the bed, staring at the wall.

To say he was worried was an understatement.

* * *

"So we're just going to walk until we hit a town?" Ariadne asked, her voice cracking. She'd finished her water and was working on Arthur's after trying her hardest to get him to drink it instead of practically forcing it down her throat.

"That's my current plan."

They'd been walking for almost two hours and had sought refuge from the high sun under a dying tree. Ariadne couldn't help but think how different it had been just three days ago, under a lush green tree in Echo Park.

"Do you still have my totem?" Arthur asked, wiping the sweat off his face. Ariadne nodded. "Can I have it back?"

"What's the point?" she asked, digging into her pocket. Arthur smiled a lopsided smile, digging a red die out of his pocket at the same time she produced hers. "What?"

"I make my own luck."


	12. Chapter 12

"I'm hot," Ariadne said, more as a sigh than anything. Arthur nodded, wiping the sweat from his face with the tail of his shawl. They'd been walking for nearly three hours and while they could see the buildings in the distance and were now on a road, instead of clomping through dunes, they felt like they'd die right there.

"When we get to this village, we need to attract as little attention as possible," he said, moving to the shoulder as a small caravan passed. "I have a little money and we don't need to stay here long, just until help arrives, or…"

"Or until Cobol does," Ariadne finished, swatting at a horsefly. "Did Eames call Boda?"

"I'm sure he did. I hope that Boda can get us some help, at least get us to Kabul. He has a lot of connections out here. Are you okay?"

Ariadne's eyes had glazed over and she hit the ground, unconscious, before he could stop her. He slid to catch her head, swearing as his knee hit a rock. He sighed, squinting as he looked down the road. They were still a good clip from the town, but he could carry her if he had to, though he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

He moved her to the shade of a large boulder, wadding up his jacket for a pillow and placing a wet t-shirt over her forehead. If they stayed in one place for too long, she would get heat stroke, but he was sure that if he had to carry her, they would have to make quick work, or he'd pass out from exhaustion. Looking at his bags, he sighed, realizing they'd have to be left. He moved the PASIV to the book bag his laptop and sundries were in and slung it over his shoulder, picking Ariadne up easily.

Nearly ten thousand dollars in electronics, luggage and clothing lay in a heap in front of him and for a minute, he felt sick. If this didn't look suspicious, he didn't know what would. But they had no other choice, he thought, as he started to trek towards town, shifting Ariadne so her head lolled towards him.

The sun was brutal, less than an hour from sunset, and his vision was starting to blur. As buildings came into sharper relief, he fought the muscles spasming in his back and legs, trudging on until he practically walked into the wall surrounding the town, the signage telling him they were in Jalez.

He sat down on the low stone wall, working Ariadne into a half sitting position. He checked her breathing and then allowed her head to rest against his chest. He had moved to take a drink when a man approached him.

"Is she okay?" he asked, in rough English.

"She passed out from heat stroke," Arthur replied in perfect Farsi. The man nodded. "Is there somewhere we can get water and a little relief from the sun?"

The man told Arthur that there was an inn about two blocks from there that was friendly to Americans, run by one in fact, and offered to show Arthur the way. Arthur followed him gladly, straining a little to stand back up with Ariadne, more than pleased when they arrived at the Afghani equivalent of a Days Inn.

He laid Ariadne down on a settee just inside the door, and walked up to the desk.

"Hello, I need to rent a room," he said, digging his and Ariadne's Passport's out of his pocket. The lady at the front desk was staring, first at Arthur, then back to Ariadne and starting to grin. She called out from someone and stepped aside as the curtain pulled open.

"Arthur, you really can't do anything the easy way, now can you, love?"

* * *

"Is she going to be okay?" Padma asked, wiping Ariadne's face again with a cool rag. Eames nodded, shrugging his jacket off.

"She should be fine. She is just dehydrated," Arthur replied before Eames could say anything. "What are you two doing here?"

"Father sent myself and the children to Kabul before you left," Padma said, sitting on the bed. "Kadija and Rajesh are in Kabul right now with our aunt. When Thomas called Father and told him what happened, he called me and told me to come wait here. He knew it would be the first town you hit and we know the innkeeper."

"And you?" Arthur said, turning to face Eames. Eames had stripped down to his undershirt and dress pants and was sitting in front of the fan. "How did you get here so fast? It's a five hour flight."

"Arthur, do you realize how long you've been walking?" Eames responded. Arthur shook his head no. "Well, at least five hours, that's for sure. You're red as a blood orange. Did your mother warn you about sunscreen?"

"I didn't feel sunscreen was necessary for a car ride, Eames," Arthur snipped, examining his cracked face in the mirror. "Padma, did Boda say anything about being able to get a hold of Omar?"

"I did not ask, but Father travels now and should be here soon. He took Mother to her mother's and will be here as soon as he can. I'm sure he will have choice words."

"Where are we?" Ariadne groaned from the bed. She sat up and looked around with squinted eyes, before lying back down and putting her hand to her head. "Limbo."

"Not Limbo," Eames responded.

"Hell then, because it's hot as fu-"

"Jalez," Arthur said, cutting her off. "Not far from Kabul. You passed out while we were walking."

"How did we get here then?"

"I…"

"He carried you ten kilometers," Padma said, grinning. Ariadne turned to look at Arthur, who was staring very deliberately at the fire alarm.

"Thanks," she smiled, coughing. "I mean, you kind of owe me anyway, since it's your fault we're in the desert to begin with, but thanks nonetheless."

Arthur nodded without turning around. Ariadne looked back at Eames and then at Padma, her eyebrows knitted together.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Well, it became obvious that you couldn't do it without me and Padma was already here," Eames smirked, winking at Padma. Ariadne rolled her eyes.

"Really, Eames, she's sixteen."

"I'm comfortable with morally gray."

"Oi," Padma chipped, laughing. "How're we going to get to Kabul? Shall we wait for Father?"

"Yeah, we have strict instructions to stay put, barring someone shooting at us."

"Is that likely?" Padma asked, her face twisting a little. Eames shrugged, lifting his pants leg to show her the gun strapped to his calf and turning so that she could see the one tucked into his waistband. She nodded, relaxing a little.

"You should be worried about him shooting you, on accident. Worse aim I've ever seen," Arthur said, hissing as Eames slapped his sunburned back between the shoulder blades. "You're an asshole."

Eames grinned, propping his feet up on the bed.

"So what do we do for now?" Ariadne asked.

"Sleep. Eat. Watch Afghani television. Mostly just lie low. I have a room, as does Padma. I hope you don't mind, I only got the one bed for you two," Eames said, practically bursting with laughter. Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to his staring contest with the fire alarm.

Eames and Padma left an hour or so later, leaving Arthur and an already sleeping Ariadne alone. Choosing the sleep on the floor instead of disturb her (and really, she was sleeping diagonally across the bed anyway), Arthur sighed and drifted off into a restless, painful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"Arthur?" Ariadne nudged a sleeping Arthur with her foot, trying not to touch his sunburned skin. "Arthur? Wake up."

Arthur turned over onto his back and looked up at Ariadne, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm thirsty."

"So go get something to drink."

"Where?"

"I don't know, the drink place?"

Ariadne cocked one eyebrow, causing Arthur to sigh and sit up. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

"What time is it?" he asked, groping around in the dark for his watch. Ariadne shrugged.

"Somewhere between one and oh my God o'clock," she opined, shivering. "How can it be cold? It was three hundred degrees out there earlier."

Arthur had stood and clicked on the light, the dim bulb barely illuminating his tired face. "It's a desert that feeds into mountains. You get the best of both worlds."

"When did Eames and Padma leave?" Ariadne asked, climbing out of bed and wrapping the bedspread around her shoulders. Arthur told her that he didn't know, moving to the window and checking on the square below them.

"Stay here," he said, grabbing his gun and moving to the balcony.

"Why, what's…"

"Eames!" Arthur hissed, raising his gun to eye level. Ariadne peeked around Arthur's shoulder, suppressing a grin as the Brit came into sight. "Eames, she's sixteen fucking years old, have some class, man."

"Put the gun down," Eames whispered back, shooing Padma inside. "We were just talking."

"Oh what, with your tongue?"

"How else would you talk, darling?"

Arthur cocked the gun and leveled it at Eames' head, not smiling as the older man waved a hand in Arthur's direction and headed back inside. Arthur relaxed and came back into the room, setting the gun down on the dresser.

"Did you really just threaten him with a gun for macking on Padma?"

"It's not loaded," Arthur said, as if that made it okay. "He is way too old for her and Boda will kill him if he finds out."

"Finds out what?" Boda's voice boomed from the front of the room. Arthur turned to face Ariadne, his eyebrows narrowing the tiniest bit.

"Oh boy."

* * *

"You I'll deal with later," Boda said, smacking Eames' head as he walked past.

"Hey," Eames grumbled, unable to hide his self-satisfied smirk.

"You two," Boda said, turning to face Arthur and Ariadne. "We have work to do. Padma is going to put us under, we need to talk in private."

Ten minutes later, the gentle whoosh put them under.

* * *

"Jafar has been bought off by Cobol, clearly," Boda said, falling in step with Arthur and Ariadne. "His dumping you in the desert was no merciful exemption from murder, they intended for you to suffer."

"Lovely," Ariadne groaned. Boda inclined his head towards her.

"You could have suffered a much worse fate than sun poisoning, Ariadne."

Ariadne stopped walking, falling behind Boda and Arthur who were talking animatedly. She shuddered, thinking of how terrible things had gotten and how quickly. Suddenly, something dawned on her.

"Boda!" she called, hurrying to catch up with them. Boda and Arthur stopped and waited for her. "Boda, what about contrived memories?"

"What of them?"

"Well, Arthur and I worked on it for a while. Is it possible to perform an inception using contrived memories?"

Boda looked at Arthur, who was already smiling, and then back at Ariadne and nodded.

"I mean, in theory it is possible, but I don't know the mechanics. I've never heard of it being done."

"I have," Arthur replied. "Omar."

"He has done it?"

"No, he's had it done. Omar truly believes that you are his friend and that we are worth helping. You did that, Boda, didn't you?"

"I wish I could say I did, but if it was done by myself, it was not on purpose."

Arthur set his mouth thoughtfully, staring at the moon high in the sky.

"If we were to think it out and attempt it, what is the worst that could happen?" Ariadne asked.

"Cobol's leads will have a subconscious that has been militarized beyond belief. What we saw in Fischer's mind will be child's play compared to what Cobol will have on dock," Arthur replied. He sat on a bench, offering the space next to him to Ariadne. She sat down next to him.

"Is there anyway we could slip in unnoticed?"

"The only way that would work," Boda said, crossing his arms, "would be for you to allow yourselves to be captured."

"I don't like this plan," Ariadne said quickly. "Let's go back to the other plan."

"He's right," Arthur said.

"I know that, so can we please ignore it and go back to the other plan?"

"No."

"God, why not?"

"The other plan got us knocked out and dropped off in the desert."

"Yeah, but we're still alive."

"I have a third degree sunburn on my back."

"But you're still alive."

"Enough," Boda said, raising his hands. "It won't be for a few days, regardless. They don't have your trail here."

"Surely Jafar told…"

"Jafar is dead, along with the driver," Boda said, his face darkening. Ariadne nodded, looking down at her hands. "We will bide our time in Jalez and come up with a course of action."

"I hear music," Arthur said. Boda nodded.

"Me too."

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Eames asked, his hands held behind his head by a large sweaty man with a gun. "I really hope you have one."

Ariadne, Boda and Arthur all sat up slowly, pulling the wire from their arms. Padma and Eames were both in a headlock at gunpoint.

"Release my daughter," Boda said calmly. The man shook his head.

"Do you hear music?" Ariadne asked.

* * *

"Why did your subconscious hold them at gunpoint?" Ariadne asked, a half grin playing at her lips. Boda shrugged.

"My subconscious wants to blow his head clean off his shoulders for messing with my daughter."

"Father," Padma hissed, her face embarrassed. Eames rolled his eyes, propping his legs up on the couch.

"So why did your subconscious hold her at gunpoint?" Arthur asked, nodding towards Padma as he wrapped the wire back up. Boda shrugged again.

"My subconscious is not so impressed with her either."

"Did you get anything figured out?" Padma asked, stashing the PASIV in the closet. Arthur shook his head.

"Eames' moral compass points South."

"Your dad doesn't dream in Technicolor."

"Essentially, we can't tell you anything," Boda interrupted. "Now, who's hungry?"

The unanimous "me" bounced off the walls. Arthur, Ariadne and Padma walked out first, leaving Boda and Eames along.

"Thomas…"

"On my honor, Boda, I didn't lay a finger on her."

"I know, son," Boda said, resting his hand on Eames' shoulder. "Thomas, I have news from Bali."

Eames face softened as he placed his hand on top of Boda's. He dropped his head, shaking it.

"They say there is no change in her. I think it is time for you to make a decision."

Eames looked up and shook his head no.

"Let's get them safe first, alright?"

"Thomas…"

"Alright. Good then."

Boda watched Eames leave the room, saying a silent prayer for his old friend.


End file.
